


Hair Product

by FandomsAreMyFuel



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, John's really bi again, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, This one kinda... really sucks.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomsAreMyFuel/pseuds/FandomsAreMyFuel
Summary: "With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock gave Molly a similar expression he offered John when he suggested something stupid in his standards. When Sherlock finally released his eyes from the microscope, he seemed to glance at John before he glared at Molly."Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John stepped closer, taking the spot he once held on to, his hand swinging towards where Jim just left.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Kudos: 20





	Hair Product

_"Hi." The casually dressed man was locked on Sherlock, his eyes breathing in the figure that leaned forwards, eyes bolted on the microscope. The man's London accent was as casual as his style. "So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" He stepped closer to the consulting detective, John stepped out of the way, narrowing his eyes._

_"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." Molly had said, giggling with 'Jim.' Sherlock only took a glimpse at the two then leaning in again._

_"Gay," Sherlock has stated once Jim strutted out the room, leaving John's neck snapping up, his eyes snaking from his crossed arms to Sherlock's body. In the meantime, he had seen Molly's turned down mouth. With stamping feet and speeches from a mouth that was connected to a pair of eyes that wouldn't leave the microscope, Sherlock finally snorted in response to Molly's fiery retort._

_"With that level of personal grooming?" Sherlock gave Molly a similar expression he offered John when he suggested something stupid in his standards. When Sherlock finally released his eyes from the microscope, he seemed to glance at John before he glared at Molly._

_"Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair." John stepped closer, taking the spot he once held on to, his hand swinging towards where Jim just left._

_"You wash your hair. There's a difference. No-no. Tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear." Sherlock waved John off, who blinked twice before removing himself from the equation as before._

_"His underwear?" Molly narrowed her eyes, her eyebrows unable to decide whether to slant up or down or simply furrow._

_"Visible above the waistline... very visible; very particular brand." He stated and John could barely register the question on how Sherlock knew it while he reached for the dish next to him. "That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here-" Sherlock picked up the card in his thumb and pointer, allowing his other hand to continue the experiments. "-and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain."_

John hummed, opening a fresh jar of hair gel, half-heartedly tossing the older and empty container in the trash. The 'thunk' of the container hitting the bottom rang out in John's room. He narrowed his eyes, leaning in towards the mirror, running a hand through his blonde hair. He stood there for a good while, the canister still opened and sitting longingly on the table.

"John." A voice came from behind him. John caught his breath and then let out a small cough.

" _Jesus_ , Sherlock!" John shouted from his spot, gripping at a fistful of hair, his eyes traveling up to the mirror, just the spot where Sherlock stood, looming over him.

"Muhammad, Einstein, Newton, Galileo..." Sherlock stepped beside him. John groaned.

"Godd*mnit, Sherlock." He said to the taller man, who was looking at his array of things piled on his table. He then handed John a small, sleek, black container, pushing it into his hands. Sherlock trotted off and out the door, the tail of his suit fluttering as he went out. When John finally stopped gapping like a fish and blinking, he took a glimpse at the packing and on it, read, 'Not Gay' and John nearly broke the table from slamming his head on it. "You b*stard." He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and opened it.

A week later, John Watson ran on the rooftops of London, tracing down the man who had apparently killed about five people on his recently deceased wife's birthday _-_ which happened to be the same day as John's 'recently deceased wife's' birthday as well.

Sherlock pulled him over by the sleeve. "We can't catch him from here." Sherlock huffed, sounding as if he caught a cold a day ago. "We would collapse." The taller man stated.

John coughed into the summer air. "Agreed... any ideas?" He loomed in the growing shadows of the skies, where Sherlock stood, above where he was leaning. "We could go back to..." John glanced up at the brick-laid wall which flashed ' _pillpillpillpillpillpillkillpillpillpill_ ' in his currently racing mind.

"Roland Kerr Further Education College..." Sherlock murmured, nodding, eyes flying towards the other direction where he entered. Even if no words, Sherlock read the ' _you still remember that?'_ expression the doctor had plastered on his face, nevertheless, John stood beside the taller man with his chest out and hand placed on the gun he brought with him. "I do keep a few things other than 243 types of tobacco ash," Sherlock stated, slipping into the shadows with a vigilant hawk's eyes, but not before earning a snort from John who cocked the gun, sliding into the same shadows.

John could only smile. "You still keep it around?"

Sherlock faked a wince, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "You're being irrelevant." Sherlock waved John towards him. "A... _ah_... 'bit not good." John chuckled. They scurried into the building like rats and they made their way down the hall.

_Down._

_Down._

_Down._

_The_ _hallways._

_Down_.

 _They_ _went_ _down..._

John pressed himself against the wall, a sneaking suspicion that caught up to him buzzed his brain, making the line's edges fuzzy and unreadable. "Sherlock?" He muttered, placing the gun in his right hand. There was a window that had lights glaring through it, he stepped closer, staring. What he saw was a bullethole staring back at his figure, next to it, he saw something.

_You're next_

' _Dear God_.' John nearly choked on his own spit. "Sherlock?" He hissed. Glancing back at the words, he noted the lack of punctuation. "And he says I'm a grammar nazi..." John scrambled around the building, spotting nothing remotely close to a lanky detective that entered a few the same building as he did a few seconds ago.

He muttered, moving to the next window, crawling against the walls.

_on the list_

John groaned, cursing Moriarty and all he ever loved, though, he doubted Moriarty ever loved anything other his games... then again, he was the best friend of Sherlock Holmes and who knows what goes through their heads?

_to tell you_

"Sherlock!" John growled. He stepped to the near end of the hallway, spotting nothing but four words in a white chalk pen. The white color stood out from the dull and flat background of brown tables and black chalkboard, ridden with suds that were not washed off. He could describe it to someone in one word: ' _boring_.'

_that you're not gay,_

John earnestly threw back his head and laughed. Feeling his body drawing forth and closer to another window, he spotted one word that stood there.

_but_

John narrowed his eyes. Stepping to the right, he turned around.

_I might be saying_

The doctor followed the window panes to the end of the hall.

_bi._

He blinked, next to it, a crouching figure of Sherlock bloody Holmes writing backwards with a white chalk pen, making it legible to John.

_I love you. -SH_

Sherlock smirked, standing up to face the blinking doctor. He popped open the window and placed a small peck on his dear doctor's cheek. He kept his lips on John's, brushing his hand through his doctor's well-kept hair. When they broke the kiss, John blinked rapidly again.

" _Now_ you put product in your hair," Sherlock stated.


End file.
